“Indeed, I should think not! But, my dearest Horace, though I would do anything to oblige you, I am not quite sure — ”
“Nonsense!” said Sir Horace bracingly. “She’ll be a nice companion for your girl — what’s her name? Cecilia? Dear little soul, you know — not an ounce of vice in her!”
This fatherly tribute made his sister blink, and utter a faint protest. Sir Horace paid no heed to it. “What’s more, she won’t cause you any trouble,” he said. “She has her head well on her shoulders, my Sophy. I never worry about her.”
An intimate knowledge of her brother’s character made it perfectly possible for Lady Ombersley to believe this, but since she herself was blessed with much the same easygoing temperament no acid comment even rose to her lips. “I am sure she must be a dear girl,” she said. “But, you see, Horace — ”
“And another thing is that it’s time we were thinking of a husband for her,” pursued Sir Horace, seating himself in a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. “I knew I could depend on you. Dash it, you’re her aunt! My only sister, too.”
“I should be only too happy to bring her out,” said Lady Ombersley wistfully. “But the thing is I don’t think — I am rather afraid — You see, what with the really dreadful expense of presenting Cecilia last year, and dearest Maria’s wedding only a little time before that, and Hubert’s going up to Oxford, not to mention the fees at Eton for poor Theodore — ”
“If it’s expense that bothers you, Lizzie, you needn’t give it a thought, for I’ll stand the nonsense. You won’t have to present her at Court — I’ll attend to all that when I come home, and if you don’t want to be put to the trouble of it then I can find some other lady to do it. What I want at this present is for her to go about with her cousins, meet the right set of people — you know the style of thing!”
“Of course I know, and as for trouble it would be no such thing! But I cannot help feeling that perhaps, perhaps it would not do! We do not entertain very much.”
“Well, with a pack of girls on your hands you ought to,” said Sir Horace bluntly.
“But, Horace, I have not got a pack of girls on my hands!” protested Lady Ombersley. “Selina is only sixteen, and Gertrude and Amabel are barely out of the nursery!”